


nothing seems as pretty as the past

by hurryup



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Noir, Anal Sex, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-31 02:55:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10890204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurryup/pseuds/hurryup
Summary: "You saved my life today," Allen said, quiet and clear. His eyes snapped away from the window, and he grimaced, remembering the whine of the bullet as it passed by his head. He remembered the shocking solidity of Tyki's body on top of his, hissing,"Get down!"Tyki smelled like wool, soap, bourbon, and smoke. The bullet, meant for Allen, had whizzed instead through the casino window and caused it to shatter. "So, thank you for that. Really."Allen wasn't too rattled over being nearly shot. It had happened before, and it would probably happen again. Hazards of the job. He was, however, rattled by the memory of Tyki pinning him roughly against the carpet, eyes fierce with a drive that seemedprotective.





	nothing seems as pretty as the past

The first time it happened, they were drunk on exhaustion.

Coming down heavy from adrenaline letdown and a bitter lack of sleep, nervy from being shot at by at least three different people over the course of the day. Allen drove them both back to his office without offering to drop Tyki off first, and Tyki made no protest. Just leaned his head back against the headrest, closed his eyes, and lit himself a cigarette. The car was hotboxed with the cloudy scent of smoke. Allen made no complaint.  
  
Not today, at least.  
  
Every time he leaned over, turning the wheel to maneuver them through the city streets, his eye was caught by the sight of Tyki in the passenger seat. Tyki's smoking had a lazy, restful indulgence to it; he was sprawled out with an attractive languidity, legs a little too long to be properly comfortable. The dark slash of his collarbones, visible through the loose collar of his shirt, exposed the thrum of his carotid. He was clean-shaved today, but still handsomely disheveled as he sucked in his cigarette and released steam after stream of smoke like a kettle releases steam.  
  
Tyki trailed after him as he headed up to his office. The sign on the door said, _"Closed."_ It said that a lot these days. He trailed on after Allen as he headed straight through the office and into the shabby apartment tucked away in the back. Trailed after him into the dingy kitchenette, where Allen pulled a bottle of Morley whiskey down from the top of the fridge.  
  
The bottle belonged to Cross, not Allen, and Allen never actually drank the stuff. Though he was old enough to drink, and maybe old enough to need to drink, he'd never really enjoyed the actual sensation of drunkenness. Allen's emotions were wild enough without making efforts to actively usurp his self-control. Tyki might still be able to play the game ten shots down, but Allen? He often felt he was fighting tooth and nail to keep up.  
  
Without dissembling, he poured Tyki a glass. Tyki, still smoking, accepted it with his free hand, knocking sips back between drags of his cigarette; two vices for the price of one.  
  
It was the first time Tyki's been back to this part of the office-slash-apartment. That was probably significant or something. Allen hadn't bothered to turn on the lights. The shadows beneath Tyki's eyes are dark as the sky beyond the grimy living room window. Tyki had expectant eyes, and Allen wasn't certain what to expect from them.  
  
Tyki's expression was marble cool, but his hands were shaking. These were just minute tremors, speaking more of too much adrenaline and too much nicotine than any genuine nerves. Eyes following the trembling of the whiskey glass, Allen found himself wanting to wrap his hands around Tyki's just to hold them still a while. It was a weird thing to want. Allen knew it was a weird thing. But that didn't keep him from wanting it, and he didn't feel guilty about it, either. Allen was beyond guilt. This game wasn't easy on him, but he knew that he could win, if he kept at it. The thought consumed him day and night, trapped between images of Tyki's wolfish grin. _I can win. Beat you at your own game._  
  
Every time Tyki took the bottle back, Allen watched the way his throat moves when he swallowed. To distract himself, Allen went to the window, peeking through the Venetian blinds. The night had come down, streetlights burning pink and orange in the night, painting the apartment with dim stripes of color. Rain had started to fall, clattering down against the window with a sound that was very much like gunfire, but not quite. Though the temperature must have been dropping, Allen was beginning to feel uncomfortably warm. The collar of his shirt felt too stuffy, constricting tight over his hyoid; right over the exact place Tyki would need to place his thumbs and press if he wanted to choke the life from Allen.  
  
Allen wanted Tyki to put his hands on him. He wasn't yet sure if he wanted Tyki to press down.  
  
"You saved my life today," Allen said, quiet and clear. His eyes snapped away from the window, and he grimaced, remembering the whine of the bullet as it passed by his head. He remembered the shocking solidity of Tyki's body on top of his, hissing, _"Get down!"_ Tyki smelled like wool, soap, bourbon, and smoke. The bullet, meant for Allen, had whizzed instead through the casino window and caused it to shatter. "So, thank you for that. Really."  
  
Allen wasn't too rattled over being nearly shot. It had happened before, and it would probably happen again. Hazards of the job. He was, however, rattled by the memory of Tyki pinning him roughly against the carpet, eyes fierce with a drive that seemed _protective_.  
  
Tyki snorted. He leaned back against Allen's kitchen counter.  
  
"Oh, it was my pleasure, trust me. I _do_ wonder how a pretty boy like you makes so many enemies, though."  
  
Allen let Tyki's flattering roll and flow off of him as easily as rainwater.  
  
"Bad habit," Allen said neatly. The ember of Tyki's cigarette drew Allen's eyes do his mouth, and he stared very pointedly. "A little like smoking, wouldn't you say?"  
  
Tyki blew a last stream out from between pursed lips, direct in Allen's direction. Allen's lungs itched. He didn't cough, because Tyki would laugh if he did, and Allen meant for Tyki to treat him like an adult.  
  
"Say what you will, your habit's is still deadlier than mine," Tyki said. He stubbed his cigarette out into one of the dirty dishes in Allen's sink, which probably should've felt rude and not relieving. "Hm. Does this mean you're in my debt?"  
  
Allen made a face. Debt was a dirty word in his dictionary.  
  
"I'm not sure what you could possibly want from me," he hedged.  
  
"Sure you can," Tyki said amicably. "I know you've got an imagination."  
  
Allen did have an imagination. A very good one, too, always suggesting he keep staring at Tyki's mouth for all the wrong reasons. They'd been doing this dance for a long time now, and the outpour of suggestions had never slowed. Rather, they'd intensified.  
  
Without asking, Tyki poured himself a fresh glass of whiskey.  
  
"Sure I do," Allen said. "I play the wheel, I play the horses. It takes imagination to be a good gambler. You need to be able to visualize the potential outcomes of each and every option. Weigh out the risks and rewards, sort bad ideas from good ideas. Being a detective is very much the same."  
  
Tyki grinned, and gestured between the two of them.  
  
"Is that what you're doing now? Weighing out the risks and rewards?"

"I've already stacked the deck," Allen said. Tyki outstretched his hand, offering Allen the last swig of whiskey. Allen ignored him, going to the sink instead to pour himself a glass of water. He was still boiling just underneath his shirt, but he wasn't sure how to unbutton it in a way that didn't seem coquettish or performative.  
  
He swallowed the glass down entirely before turning back.  
  
"You know, I'm not a gamble," Allen said softly. "You can count on me to stay."  
  
Allen tilted his head up, eyes locked onto Tyki’s so that Tyki couldn’t look away without being obvious. In those eyes, Allen could see a hint of a Tyki he'd never met, the boy Tyki must have been; nervous, a little vulnerable. “I'm glad you're here,” Allen continued. "Even if I can only get you for a moment at a time."  
  
Tyki's expression didn't change, but it also didn't quite seem to be the same. The firm line f his mouth, which Allen had first thought cool, now seemed frozen. His lazy eyes, once selfish, betrayed the root cause of all selfishness: want.  
  
“Oh, sweet boy.”  
  
Tyki pushed off the counter and wandered towards Allen, reaching out to cup Allen's jaw. Allen let out a short sound, and turned his face into Tyki’s palm, nuzzling into his touch. “You terrify me when you talk like that. You know that?"  
  
Allen opened his eyes, half understanding, half electric with the volts of a thousand questions, but Tyki had no answers for him. Instead he drew Allen closer and kissed him, a kiss both sudden and not.  
  
This was their first kiss. Allen had the feeling it would be the first of many, but there was no way to be sure. He kissed back hungrily, desperate to take off from his doubt, his fears, his insecurities, and run into Tyki's mouth.  
  
There'd be no weddings, not for them. No lazy mornings, no warm dinners, no "Welcome home, darling, how was your day?" There was no promise Tyki could make, Allen knew, that was not an active lie. They could only circle one another with the gait of panthers; the rattlesnake in all his regalia and the mongoose, hunting him out beneath the house. They might last, but only until someone got hurt; and if they didn't burst apart then, then Allen had until Tyki either got too bored or too scared. It could be a week. It could be a year.  
  
Tyki held him tighter, kissed him with more fervor, like he was remembering an addiction he’d believed to be conquered. Like one taste was all it had taken to break the dam holding his emotions at bay.  
  
“Allen,” he mouthed against Allen’s lips. “Darling.”  
  
The man was a mess.  
  
Hideously. Beautifully.  
  
With a low growl, Tyki bit at Allen's lip. Allen gasped, high and desperate, before grabbing Tyki by the back of his neck and pulling him in closer. He tasted like iron, like blood and malt and spiced whiskey, smelling richly and deeply of cigarettes; he felt like a fire.  
  
Allen felt a fire of his own creation burning inside of him. The flames licked and bit at his body in each place Tyki was touching him, kindled by each gasp and each slide of their tongue. It was almost unbearably hot.  
  
The fire was at first savage, vicious: the two fires within them finding each other and destroying any and all substances separating them. Then, it shifted. Homogenized. It grew soft and explorative while retaining its heat, the flames conjoining and intermingling until no boundary, metaphysical or mathematical, could be drawn between. They shared in the wildfire; standing and swaying in a whirlwind of barely contained energy that generated between them as easily as friction.  
  
This, the fever-madness of love.  
  
Tyki pulled away just enough to watch Allen’s eyes with his own. They stared at one another, breathing evenly and nosing and holding on. Tyki felt it, felt it, felt it to. He kissed Allen on the lips once more, gentling him.  
  
“You walk around, smirking like you're hiding a secret. Like you've got some unravelable darkness hiding just skin-deep," Allen said breathlessly, carefully, his lips moving against Tyki’s. He kissed them twice in succession. “But it’s not darkness.” Allen kissed him. “It’s fire.”  
  
Tyki's eyes glittered fiercely in the low light.  
  
“It's in you, too."  
  
“Is it mine?” Allen asked with genuine curiosity. "Or am I borrowing yours?"  
  
Tyki hummed, sloe-eyed and indulgent, tucking a stray strand of Allen's white hair behind one ear.  
  
“Does it really matter?"

Allen opened his mouth to respond, but it turned out that Tyki was not truly interested in hearing his response. He curved in over Allen's body, silencing him with the press of his lips. Tyki kissed dirty, kissed predacious, kissed demanding. His tongue slid against Allen's, the glide liquid hot, teeth catching and grazing over Allen's full, lush lower lip before ducking back in to suck on his tongue. Allen very nearly whimpered, buckling against the hard cage of Tyki's body.  
  
He had to force himself to pull back before his train of thought was completely consumed by the bonfire Tyki was building up inside him with every touch, every brush, every staked claim of a kiss.  
  
"God, I wanna tear you open," Tyki murmured against the shell of Allen's ear. There was the ghost of a laugh in his tone; low and amused and very nearly hysterical. "I wanna get at the very cells that made you. Darling boy, I don't know what is about you, but I need to get my hands on it— hold it, fuck it, consume it, own it. Anything."  
  
Allen writhed against Tyki, but Tyki was quick to subdue him. He backed Allen's body up hard so that he was pinned between the counter and Tyki's body. Never in his life had he felt so beautifully, perfectly trapped.  
  
"You'll have to kill me first," Allen said, breathless. It was getting harder and harder to hide what was getting harder and harder. Curious, Allen lifted his hips to grind against Tyki's. Tyki hissed, confirming Allen's suspicions; Tyki was getting hard, too.  
  
"Oh, I intend to."  
  
Tyki's hands trailed down the length of Allen's body, sliding behind to grope at his ass. He squeezed hard, all the while pressing forward to rut up against Allen's body. A long moan shocked it's way out of Allen before he had the chance to hold it back. Tyki chuckled, low and self-satisfied and completely hot. Allen shut him up with a kiss, running his hands over Tyki’s skin, feeling the cords of muscles beneath it.  
  
Tyki's hands wandered down to the backs of Allen's thighs, at first just feeling him up, then applying an upwards pressure. Allen realized what he was doing and squirmed to accommodate it, spreading his knees invitingly as Tyki lifted Allen up to sit on the counter in front of him.  
  
Allen planted his palms on the counter to steady himself. He glanced up, panting, watching through hooded eyes as Tyki watched him. Tyki looked... turned on beyond belief. Dark and hungry, like he really would make good on his promise and tear Allen to pieces. Allen's cock was straining against his underwear at this point, and he was pretty sure that if he didn't have Tyki inside of him soon, he would actually be reduced to begging.  
  
Slowly, enticingly, Allen drew his hands up his thighs, spreading his legs wider. Tyki let out an eager breath, putting his hands on top of Allen's to encourage him. He positioned himself right between Allen's legs so Allen could wrap them around Tyki. They kissed again, wet, obscene. Their bodies slid up one against each other slowly, hot and good even through the thin layers of fabric between.  
  
"I wanna fuck you right here," Tyki said as Allen panted into his open mouth. "Where do you keep your lube?"  
  
Allen actually blushed, stupidly, his mind swimming. Tyki tutted, as if he was dealing with a wayward student.  
  
"Oh, don't play the virgin," Tyki said. He reached up with one hand to pinch Allen's nipple through his shirt. Allen let out a shaky moan as Tyki's thumb rubbed over the little nub until it stood out through the crisp fabric. "Not with me. I know you far better than that."  
  
"Bedside table in my room," Allen gasped, turning his face away. "Second... second drawer."  
  
Tyki kissed the side of Allen's head. "Take off your clothes and turn over onto your stomach."  
  
His voice was low and dangerous enough to send shivers down Allen's spine. Better than anything he'd ever imagined, alone in the darkness.  
  
Tyki pulled away, padding off into the sulky darkness of Allen's apartment. Allen braced himself back on his elbows and lifted himself down off the counter. He unbuttoned his shirt carefully, feeling a little foolish, and then slid it from his shoulders. Next came his socks, then his pants, then his underwear. His cock responding with a shiver of interest when it brushed against the curve of Allen's hand, then again when it brushed against the counter top. Allen bent over, face cool against the counter, heart pounding when he heard the soft footfalls announcing Tyki's return.   
  
He felt like he was presenting himself. Offering himself up. The very thought was unbelievably arousing, arousing enough that the sound of Tyki's zipper sliding down its track was enough to get him breathing in short, excited puffs of air.  
  
Tyki pressed his weight against Allen’s back, folding him in half against the counter, tightening his grip on Allen's waist to keep him still. Allen felt pliable beneath Tyki's coaxing hands. He put his head down against the counter, keeping his face pressed right up against them to keep himself upright. In this position, the whole of his back was exposed in one long arch.  
  
For a long moment, Tyki seemed to stand and do nothing but soak the sight in. Allen could feel him staring, appreciating the pose from where he was standing; eyes roaming over Allen's pale back and bottom. Allen swallowed hard, waiting in desperate, whimpering silence for Tyki to touch him. He felt like he hadn't been fucked in months.  
  
There was the sound of a cap, a pause, and then Tyki's hands were on him; one trailed over Allen's back reassuringly, the other, slick and warm, was trailing low to finger Allen. There was some whispered encouragements, to move a little, gentle probing that grew rougher and more impatient by the minute— and then, Allen was making abrupt, surprised noises of pleasure, lifting his ass in a wordless demand for more.  
  
Allen gasped when Tyki's pulled his fingers away, then again when Tyki gripped his hips, and then the sound cut off into a muted cry as Tyki settled himself deep inside of Allen in one long, slick thrust.  
  
“Oh god, _fuck_."  
  
Tyki pulled out, feeling the give of Allen's body at the same time as he did. The second time he pushed in, the glide was smooth. There wasn’t an ounce of resistance. Allen scrabbled at the counter and moaned, long and loud and wanton.  
  
Tyki's first few thrusts were slow, indulgent. Even now, he was teasing Allen, taking his sweet time grinding in and out of him. It was gorgeous and agonizing, all at once so much and not nearly enough at all. Allen squeezed his eyes shut, fucking himself back onto Tyki's cock with little thrusts of his own. Tyki's hips slowed to a halt.  
  
"Is this not enough for you?" Tyki asked, sotto, and Allen was going to die, actually die. "You want me to fuck you harder? Is that what you want?"  
  
" _Yes_ ," Allen begged. "Yes, God, please, just— _fuck me_ , Tyki, make me come, _please_."  
  
"You're a dirty little thing, aren't you?” Tyki said low in his throat. He pulled his cock completely free of Allen body, and before Allen could even whine at the loss, Tyki was slamming his way back in.  
  
Allen was shocked enough to shout before Tyki did it again and knocked the breath out of him completely.  
  
“Better?” Tyki hissed. His tone had become almost frightening cruel; jagged and mocking and crackling with sharp sexuality. He followed his words up with a hard, forceful thrust, pushing his entire length into Allen's body. Allen's entire body shook with the force of them, riding hard against the sharp edge of the counter with each jut of Tyki's hips. He loved it. Quite quickly his body recognized that Tyki was playing rough with him, and he began to roll his hips to match Tyki's demanding pace, wanting him deeper.  
  
The kitchen was so alive with the sounds of the two of them. Allen's little cries, Tyki's deeper, more masculine groans. Allen loved the sounds they made; loved how it filled him up. He loved how whole he felt, blank and hot and beautiful, more than some strange, scarred-up boy who smelled of gunpowder and death.  
  
Tyki reached around Allen's waist with his left hand, wrapping it around Allen's cock. stroking him delicately. Instinctively, Allen's hand flew to stop him, holding it tightly in place while Tyki continued to fuck him against the counter.  
  
“I w-wanna come on your cock," Allen panted, lips glistening wet around his words. "Just that, j-just that."  
  
Tyki's rhythm stuttered for only a moment. Then, he leaned over Allen's slick back and said, “Then come on my cock.”  
  
Allen's eyes fluttered shut. Tyki gave and kept on giving until there remained between them no seams. And maybe, for Tyki, it wasn't love. Still, just then, Allen could believe it was something very much like love. The mending of the shattered things, the broken strings, the winding scars. His cock uncovered cock bobbed against the granite, drowning in pleasure with every fierce snap of Tyki's hips.  
  
Dizzy, Allen arched his back and turned his head with the intention of watching Tyki come undone, too. However, almost immediately, nails dug into his scalp and shoved his face back down. Allen keened in mixed pleasure and pain; shaking and shivering and loving and stoking hot. He was burning up, bound to the pyre, speared over the stake.  
  
Tyki came with a curse, his hands clutching and shaking as his cock convulsed to mark Allen from within. Allen came seconds later. He cried out long and pained, his body snapping tight and relaxing soft. White light bled behind his eyes, hideous and beautiful.  
  
Tyki fucked him through the aftershocks and for a short while longer until his hips stalled inside of Allen. He rolled his hips a few more times against Allen before staying buried inside of Allen for a long moment. It felt good, just being close to him. Tyki were learning to breathe again; Allen was learning to think. He couldn't get his thoughts to concentrate on any one focal point, just then; at least, not until he'd finished shaking through the sensation of Tyki gently pulling out of him.  
That was when Allen realized the moment was over, never to return again.  
  
His body was worn ragged, used up. All of a sudden, he felt almost violently unclean; body damp with the thin film of sweat, Tyki's come leaking from his ass and running thickly down to his thighs. He felt heavy in love, and love made him bitter. He thought back to what Tyki had said to him, of Tyki ripping Allen to shreds just to pick up the pieces of him. He wondered, exhausted, if that really was the way Tyki felt about him. Tyki sighed against Allen’s shoulder, just once, before pulling away. He zipped himself up.  
  
Allen straightened up on shaking knees, turning around to watch Tyki stretch. His eyes jumped across the room, maybe seeking a fresh cigarette.  
  
"Say whatever you want," Allen said, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, folding over the slashed-up, angular scar. "Just don't call this a mistake."  
  
Tyki's eyes flickered away. Allen, suddenly feeling self-conscious of his nudity, reached for his underwear first, not caring about the fact he was a mess beneath. Then, he pulled his shirt over his shoulders and let it hang over him gauzily.  
  
"You should get cleaned up," Tyki said instead. He'd retrieved a Marlboro from somewhere across the room and was already fiddling with a box of matches. Allen laughed into his hands.  
  
"I really should," he said, and he laughed again, knowing Tyki would be hailing a cab by the time he twisted the shower handle, gone by the time Allen was clean and ready to sleep.  
  
Tyki didn't say anything else. Just thumbed at his matches, expression unreadable. Allen's laughter didn't seem to reach him. Allen wondered if tears would. If confessions would. If there was anything at all he could do to reach Tyki, and whether Tyki would reach back just like he'd always wanted.  
  
The bonfire was cooling, flames settling down into an indistinct, cinderblock glow. Allen rested his chin against his palms, watching the neon flicker in and out from between the shuttered frame of his kitchen window.  
  
_Love is a bitter, bitter beast,_ he thought, and then, because that would've confused Tyki, he said, "Has it stopped raining?"

**Author's Note:**

> hurryupfic @ tumblr  
> fuckhowardlink @ twitter


End file.
